


The Flood

by bigblueboxat221b



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Don't copy to another site, M/M, Mesopotamia, Post-Flood, Well mid-Flood really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 06:05:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19388044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/bigblueboxat221b
Summary: As the flood waters rise, Aziraphale sees something he never would have imagined.





	The Flood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EchoSilverWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EchoSilverWolf/gifts).



> Prompted by Echo on twitter. Thank you!

In the end, they’d been separated by the crowd. Well, less of a crowd, Aziraphale thought, watching sadly as the water rose. More of a screaming rush of people scrambling for higher ground, pushing aside others in their haste to escape the rising water.

Fortunately for him, he was an angel, and making it up here – the highest point around, inaccessible to the humans – was easy enough. He wasn’t sure why he was watching this happen. It was awful, the humans crying and begging, the desperate grasps for friends and family as sections of lower ground were swept away, but Aziraphale could not tear his eyes from it.

He didn’t understand. God’s plan was ineffable, of course, and he wasn’t _meant_ to understand it, but this, this was…uncomfortable. More than uncomfortable; it seemed to go directly against what he had learned and been expected to practice in Heaven, like so many things here on Earth. The demon Crawley had seen too sharply, as well, his ability to voice the doubts in Aziraphale’s head an unsettling insight. This _was_ more like something a demon would consider doing. It certainly didn’t fit into Azriaphale’s idea of how God viewed Earth, and the humans in particular. He couldn’t see the love in this, rain bow promise or not.

And the kids. Aziraphale knew it would be a long time before he’d forget the appalled tone of Crawley’s voice, confirming God meant to drown the children. It was all Aziraphale had been able to do not to agree, to burst out and question The Plan alongside the demon. He’d had to bite his lip and everything. It had certainly changed his opinion of him – most demons would have been joyful at the idea of so many innocent souls dying for no apparent reason.

But not Crawley.

“You are an unusual demon,” Aziraphale mused to himself, wincing as a large section of rock was washed away, taking a hundred poor souls along with it. The shrieks were loud, but the abrupt silence as a wave dragged them under was worse.

Sighing, Aziraphale turned to leave. His stomach was roiling with anxiety about what all of this meant, as his desire to serve fought his desire to understand. Before he could blink himself further away – somewhere decidedly drier, he thought – something caught his eye. Something large and black, on top of a section of rock not far from him. The water was rising fast, and it would be under soon.

Squinting, Aziraphale peered at it. The shock when he recognised the shape was palpable, and he felt one hand go to his mouth.

“Crawley,” he breathed. The demon was standing atop the rock, wings spread wide in a pose that could only be described as protective. A dozen frightened faces peered out, and the tiny hands clinging to his wings could mean only one thing. _Children._ Crawley was protecting children, ducking his head to speak to them as rain pounded against his wings.

As he looked up at the sky, scowling, Aziraphale felt his own wings release, spreading wide, the flash of white catching the demon’s eye, as it was meant to do.

Their gaze locked across the water, boiling and raging between them. The hopelessness in the yellow eyes was another shock, and Aziraphale knew that the demon had no plan, no big idea to save these children. He couldn’t leave them, so he did his best to comfort them, knowing they were going to die. How remarkably empathetic, Aziraphale thought. Not at all like demons are meant to be.

Without thinking, he raised one hand, the miracle dropping from it in a second.

“What are you doing?” Crawley screamed from the rock beside Aziraphale. “Save them! You have to save them!”

“I can’t,” Aziraphale said. Something was running down his face, something he had assumed was rain, but now he suspected might just be tears. “It’s part of The Great Plan.”

“You have no idea about The Plan!” Crawley shouted. He gestured with one hand at the rock where the children still huddled, eyeing the rising water fearfully. “Neither do they! What’d they ever do to anyone?” His voice broke, and he added, “Wrong place, wrong time, that’s all…”

As the demon and the angel watched, a wave came from behind, breaking over the rock and washing it clean. It was as though they had never existed; not a single small head rose above the water.

Crawley moaned, dropping to his knees. “I couldn’t save even one. And don’t tell me it’s part of that hell-damned ineffable plan. She didn’t even give them a chance!”

Aziraphale had sunk to his knees, horrified at the callous deaths of the tiny humans. He knew they were mortal, but this was different. There was no choice in this, no decision made by these people that lead them here. While his brain still whirled with what he’d seen, the sight of the demon, face in hands, urged Aziraphale to move.

Tentatively, he moved closer, wrapping one wing around the demon as he wept. To his relief, Crawley leaned into it, tucking his own wings under. His body was thin, arms wrapping around himself, and Aziraphale wondered when he’d last eaten. He assumed that eating was not a strict necessity, as for angels, but food was one of the few indulgences he’d discovered on Earth, and it didn’t appear to disrupt his celestial body too badly. Perhaps he could convince the demon to eat something.

They sat in silence for a long time, Crawley ticked under the pale feathers of his wing, until the water rose high enough to set the Ark of Noah afloat. Not a single creature had survived on the plain below, and yet the rain continued to fall.

“How long will it rain?”

The demon’s words were abrupt and tight and somehow small over the rush of water below them.

“I don’t know,” Azriaphale replied regretfully. “She didn’t say.”

“Do you have to stay here?”

“No,” Aziraphale said. He glanced nervously over at the demon, who was watching him, waiting for him to go on. “I just felt like…I should be here.”

“Watching God kill a bunch of people,” Crawley said bitterly.

“Witnessing the end of their lives,” Aziraphale corrected. “It seems to be important to humans. That their lives are recognised in some way.”

“Are you _mourning_ them?” the demon asked in astonishment. His eyebrows rose in astonishment.

“Well, I suppose I am,” Aziraphale said defensively. “If you want to put it like that.”

“Don’t mourn them,” Crawley said, standing up. “Mourn whatever you thought The Great Plan was, ‘cause if this is it,” he waved at the ocean before him, “I can’t say it’s all that Heavenly.”

“It’s not for us to judge,” Aziraphale told him uncomfortably, pulling his piety protectively around himself, “as I said before.”

“Yeah,” Crawley replied. He took a deep breath and Aziraphale saw his stance shift, sinking back into the laconic attitude he’d borne earlier. “Anyway, I’ll be off.”

“Wait,” Aziraphale said, reaching out but stopping before he touched the demon. “Will you be alright?”

“Of course,” Crawley replied breezily. “I’m a demon. Plenty of tempting to do, just have to work somewhere else for a while. I hear there’s a lot of people on a big island kind of,” he squinted, pointing north-west, “that way. Might go and see what they’re up to.”

“Very well,” Aziraphale replied. Surely Crawley wasn’t _fine_ , not after witnessing that, but he wasn’t sure what he could offer. What he _should_ offer. Aziraphale wanted to say something else, something along the lines of, ‘have a good time,’ or, ‘I’ll be here if you need me,’ or ‘don’t go,’ but he held himself back.

It wasn’t for an angel and a demon to be friends.

They were on opposite sides.

Weren’t they?

**Author's Note:**

> In case you're wondering, I made the conscious decision to call the demon 'Crawley' as he had not yet changed his name. Yes, the spelling can vary, depending on where you source your information. <3


End file.
